


óneiro

by Laintadhg



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Addie Greggory, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death, Cunnilingus, Dream Sex, F/M, Fingering, Former MERP Characters, Mass Effect OC - Freeform, Tevren Sotir, Turian/Human, Turians, Xenophilic relationship, dream state
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:45:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7048465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laintadhg/pseuds/Laintadhg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I open my eyes and half-expect you to be gone, my face shoved into the pillow of yours I saved in a sealed bag on the day you – the day I thought you died – but you haven’t gone anywhere. You’re there, smiling up at me with a softness I’ve never seen on you before, your hands are sliding up the side of my neck, fingers massaging away my unease. You always could undo me like that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	óneiro

**Author's Note:**

> (Please note, this is not a "Reader X Character" story, he's just having a weird dream about the other person, whom he is referring to as "you" for a while.)

I never thought I’d see you again. Standing, breathing, smiling – _alive_. And yet there you are, smirking at me like you’ve been in on the joke the whole time. You always had a dark sense of humor, so who knows? Maybe faking your death was all for a laugh.

Too bad I never got that memo.

But I sigh, too overcome by the sheer happiness and warmth that’s spilling its way through my chest to be upset with you. You could’ve been the one who called the Reapers from their mechanical sleep and I would still be happy to see you, still love you so much that it hurts. And it does hurt. Loving you always did.

Your soft edges – _smooth skin, plump lips, an ass I could literally sink my teeth into_ – were shaved sharp by your razor-clipped tongue, biting intellect, and needling green-eyed gaze. You were the lucky and unlucky sides of the coin, but “your luck was your own”, as you liked to say. There was some old earth villain who said it first, I found out later, but then again you always were a liar. That’s the only thing you never lied about, actually.

And you’re still standing there, waving now, your hair wafting in the breeze of the beach we’re on. It’s home, I realize, my stretch of sand in front of my parent’s home, and I wonder briefly how you’re here, but that doesn’t really matter, so I ignore it. You’re here, within arm’s reach. _Within arm’s reach_ –

I reach out to touch you, but you laugh – _silent, there’s no sound leaving your lips, why is that?_ – and take a step back, wagging your finger at me. I grit my teeth and glare at you, but you just laugh even harder and start off down the beach. Your dress – _why are you in a dress? You hate dresses_ – white and knee-length, flows freely as you run down the beach towards my childhood home.

I laugh – _audibly, there’s a rumble in my chest and the movement of air reaches my ears_ – and roll my eyes at you, taking bounding steps in the sand to catch up. Why you ever thought you could outrun an apex predator in his natural habitat is beyond me. I’ve been running with my talons in the sand since I was a toddler. You, with your flat, squishy human feet, can’t do more than speedily stumble towards your destination.

I catch you, naturally, and we tumble to the sand with the force of the impact, my hand cradling your head so it doesn’t hit the ground too hard. You don’t need another concussion from yours truly. And then you’re there, laying in the sand beneath me, all soft, smooth, gentle and _so human_.

Your skin radiates heat like a miniature sun is in each cell, your hair – _ticklish, silken strands of the softest thing I’ve ever touched_ – splays out behind your head and I can’t stop myself from leaning down and breathing in it’s scent. Guns and the residue left behind on your hands when you’ve been firing too long and too hot, tobacco smoke mixed with your favorite variety of Hanar-grown “herbs”, a hint of that sour human beer you hoarded with fervor, and the softest touch of jasmine from your shampoo, all mashed up and jumbled into the smell that is so uniquely, so addictingly _Addie_.

I open my eyes and half-expect you to be gone, my face shoved into the pillow of yours I saved in a sealed bag on the day you – the day I _thought_ you died – but you haven’t gone anywhere. You’re there, smiling up at me with a softness I’ve never seen on you before, your hands are sliding up the side of my neck, fingers massaging away my unease. You always could undo me like that.

It takes all of four seconds for my body to remember what to do with yours, my claws – _no gloves, but I always wear gloves now_ – tracing lines up the flesh of your thigh, not pressing, not scratching, just…tracing. I draw little phrases in my language - _Sweet, sensual nothings meant only for lovers_ –  that you’d never be able to read, but if you could, you’d blush bright red and tell me to “bring it on”. You giggle and blush and I think it’s just because of the sensation, but you seem to know, somehow.

Bringing my face closer to yours, you plant a firm kiss on my plated lips, then a tender one, and then one that’s all tongue, engaging the part of me that you know I can compete with you on. Kissing with lips is a human tradition, albeit one I’ve grown to enjoy for its ability to be both socially acceptable and incredibly passionate and intimate all at once. That being said, you’ve told me before that I’m terrible at it, so I stick with my skilled tongue instead.

Which, now that I’ve thought of it, is precisely what I’m going to use next. You laugh and hit my shoulder.

_“The sand! C’mon, that’s gross!”_

I use that as an excuse to show you how much human slang I’ve picked up since you’ve been gone, “C’mon yourself, babe. Everyone knows clams are best a little sandy.”

 _“Ew. Shut up and eat me out, you giant perv,”_ You snap back, gently pushing my shoulders down while I slide up your dress. I chuckle against the tiny pale hairs on your thigh when I notice you aren’t wearing any underwear. Convenient.

I set to work, slipping my tongue between your outer folds and tracing you, indulging in your taste, your smell. Your hair defined your scent and identified you as _Addie_ , but your sex…That scent was uniquely crafted to drive _me_ into a sexual frenzy. Humans have some sense of scent-driven allure to one another, but never the way turians do. The smell of your skin, the velvety cells that coat your inner walls, smell distinctly of _you_ , and it grows more potent the wetter you are _. Forget taste, I could never describe it properly._

While I work at your sensitive bud with my tongue, I suddenly realize my talons might not be filed – _it’s been so long since I’ve needed to keep them short, I’ve touched no others like this, haven’t wanted to_ – but to my surprise they are. No sharpened tips to nick you with at all. So, I bring one long, thick finger and rub your entrance with my knuckle, delighting at how your thighs quiver in anticipation. But I don’t make you wait long, that finger sliding in gently, a second following shortly after and filling you up perfectly. You shake around my pumping fingers as I stroke you with my tongue and you come, silently, your thighs pressed tightly against my head. _That’s why I can’t hear…must be_ …

I let out a growl, a high whimper following in my upper harmonics, as I notice my own need suddenly. You don’t protest at all when I lean back up and kiss you, unbuckling my pants and positioning myself against you. You look up at me with love in that moment, a look I remember well, and my browplates shift into a frown. _I want this. I want this, why am I stopping?_

“Something’s wrong…”

 _“Shhh, baby, shhh…It’s alright. What’re you afraid of?”_ You ask, but your voice doesn’t come from your mouth – _it’s in my head…why is it…?_

“I’m not afraid of anything, Ads,” I reply, my upper harmonics normal range, but the lower a soft whimper, belaying my lie. I’m grateful that those sounds are outside of your range of hearing. I am afraid. I’m afraid of losing you again. I’m afraid this isn’t real. _It always feels so real…_

 _“Maybe that’s because it is real, Tev._ ”

_Spirits, no. No, please, I can’t do this again._

“ _Tevren…Would I lie to you?”_

“Yes. You would, you have, and you will again. You’re a fucking con-woman, Addie.”

You shrug and smile your wide, knowing smile in agreement. _“…Ya got me there, babe.”_

“So…This isn’t real…”

_“It could be, if you let it.”_

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

_“…You’re dying right now, Tevren.”_

_What?! No, that’s crazy, this is just a dream. I’ve had a thousand dreams about holding you again, talking to you again, having the best sex I’ve never had with you again. This is just another one of those dreams and I’ll wake up hating I didn’t get drunk enough to black out entirely in just a minute._

You touch my arm and it feels warm, too warm. It’s…hot, actually, and wet. I look down and see my bad arm shot to shit, my skin burned and full of holes. But it doesn’t hurt.

_“You’re in Cipritine. You went to fight alongside your father and take back Palaven, Tevren."_

 “But I'm home...” I whisper back, a low, unsure hum beside my words. I don't believe you. __I can't believe you._ _ “...No, no I'm on a beach on Icthios and you're not dead...you're...you're not...Oh _spirits_ , you're dead...”

“You’re in the middle of a battlefield right now, baby,” I can hear your voice for the first time, truly hear it. My stomach does flip-flops until I feel sick and my heart aches with a pain unrivaled by anything I’ve ever felt physically. You keep talking, your voice confident and sexy at first, but fading into uncertainty at the end, “And I got a fish taco with your name on it, Tev. Better get home quick if you want a bite, baby. Oh - and on the taco subject, pickup more salsa on your way home. And I mean actual salsa, not a metaphor for something spicy and vagina-related, because tortilla chips by themselves are bullshit. See you soon, Tiger...ahem. Love you, by the way.”

“What’re you…talking about? Babe, you’re…I can’t come home to you. You’re…gone…”

You smile sadly at me, tears welling in your eyes, but you repeat yourself, your voice becoming staticy and crackled, “And I got… -sh taco with….-our name...Baby – Spicy – Tiger.”

You cut in and out and your words get mangled and mixed until it all shorts out, except for two words. “ _Love you – Love you – Love you – Love you – Love you – Love y – “_

**“SPECTRE DOWN! Get him OUT of there! MOVE IT, SOLDIER! We CANNOT afford to lose him!!”**

_“Love you – Love you – Love you – “_

“Addie…?”

“She’s not here, Tev! She’s gone! And you will be too, if you don’t GET UP!” I look up and see my pilot, Naftis, bleeding from his crest where two spines were missing and trying to haul me to my feet. The arm Addie touched is a lost cause, so I push myself over with my good arm and try to stand. No good, one knee is shattered and I can’t support my full-armored weight on the other. Naftis hefts me up and drags us, both stumbling, to an enclosure where other turian medics take us in and start applying medigel to our wounds liberally.

_“Love you – Love you – “_

“Tev, I think your omnitool’s busted…Sorry, man,” Naftis says, looking over at the cracked hologram image popping in and out from my glowing orange interface. Addie, wearing nothing but a winter sweater of mine, is curled up on our couch, looking uncomfortable as she glitches and repeats “ _love you”_. It was one of the last messages she left me before she died, the only one that where she told me she loved me. The data’s been corrupted, likely beyond repair, and the backup systems were taken out a week prior when the Reapers hit Menae hard. I’m scared to touch my omnitool, unsure if I’ll delete her entirely. I can’t let her go like that, but her words float back to me from my half-dreamed moment that seemed too far away, back in that place that wasn’t real.

_“It could be…if you let it…”_

“…If I let it…”

“You say somethin’, Tev?” I hear Naftis to my right, but he seems distant. Too distant to be sitting right next to me.

And there’s the sounds of the ocean much closer on my left, a soft laugh, and the sweet smell of gunshot residue and jasmine pulling me gently into the sand.

_“Love you…”_

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, my old MERP character, Tevren Sotir, a badass Turian Spectre with a sob story about a dead human girlfriend named Addie, just kinda zoomed into my brain and demanded to be written today. Blame the ME3 Soundtrack. It's heart wrenching and horrible, just like this story. I don't think he's actually dead at the end, but he's so tired by that point in the war that I could see him giving up and taking his permanent vacation with Addie on his home island, too. Up to you, I suppose.


End file.
